


Freckles And Mittens

by QueenOfTheWesternSky



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Graphic Sexual Content, Platonic Relationship, porn star au, porn stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:03:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfTheWesternSky/pseuds/QueenOfTheWesternSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dirk Strider and for some reason, your life now revolves around a girl who wears mittens completely unironically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Your name is Dirk Strider and you like to think of yourself as a professional, even if a lot of people look down on you for your job.

But hey, that’s cool with you. Everyone’s got their own opinions, their own skills. And this is yours. You know exactly what expressions to make, what noises they wanna hear and where to touch. You know not to look at the camera, not ever, and you know you have to make this whole thing look as natural as possible and like this isn’t the fourth person you’ve fucked today.

Unfortunately your professionalism has faced its undoing in the form of a curvy girl who just started working at the studio. The end of your professionalism, and your poker face, has a name, and that name is Jane Crocker.

May god--or better yet the directors--have mercy on your soul, cus you’re pretty sure if you both ever start laughing your asses off in the middle of a take again, they’re probably going to fire you. And they only thing worse than being a porn star is being a broke unemployed porn star. You have yet to actually figure out what led the both of you to laughing so hard you both rolled off that disgusting queen size bed that at least seven people have fucked in since nine AM.

But it was actually pretty goddam fun so you ain’t too mad at her. Hell, you aren’t mad at her at all. In fact if you hadn’t had another three hours’ worth of filming to do, you probably would have offered to buy her coffee. Well you did that anyway, but after you finally managed to do the dirty without laughing and rolling off the bed (Something that took a lot longer than it should have. And not in a good way). It was quickly decided that the less shoots that had to be done involving you two, the better.

You sorta resent that. But whatever, laughing during what was supposed to be a ‘serious’ scene probably ain’t good for business. And you’ve gotta make your money somehow.

It used to be that between takes, you’d wander around in a dumb bathrobe, but since everyone in the building’s already seen everything you’ve got, no one bothers wearing anything anymore. Makes it easier to differentiate between cast and crew anyway. Jane seems to have learned that a lot more quickly that you ever did, because about ten seconds after you got done trying to clean yourself up (At heart, despite your ‘dirty’ work, you’re something of a clean freak), she’d found you and plopped herself down in an arm chair, butt naked and grinning.

About a minute later you decided you liked her, in a totally platonic we’re-probably-going-to-have-to-fuck-daily-and-I’m-cool-with-that-if-you’re-cool-with-that kinda way.  
Within five minutes she’s already making fun of your freckles.

And alright you sorta deserve that because you really do have them everywhere. 

“I think they want me to do some kind of weird Japanese bondage tomorrow. And I have to come in two hours early so they can tie me up. Personally, I think I deserve overtime. What do you think, freckles?” She asks, cocking her head to the side with a sly smile,

“I think you’re gonna have rope burn, trust me when I say, there are some places where ropes should not go.” You learned that the hard way. Normally you’re pretty down for anything, but the after effects are pretty awful. Or they can be if you aren’t careful. After that you swore never again to do bondage.

So of course you ended up doing more bondage. Shit pays well, and you wanted a new TV. 

“Naw, don’t tell me that! You’ll scare me. And when I try and avoid getting tied up tomorrow, I’ll have to tell them that you scared me out of something as innocent and safe as being tied up, suspended from the ceiling and fucked by a stranger!” 

You spend so long you almost miss your last take of the day, for which the director has a go at you about, and honestly by the end of it, you’re so tired, sore and altogether done with everything that you almost wish you had missed the take. By the time you’ve cleaned yourself up, downed a cup of coffee and pulled your clothes back on, you find Jane still in the middle of a shoot moaning and squealing like she was getting paid for it--which she was. When she spots you, you get a friendly wink from one of her bright blue eyes that looks a lot smaller because her sexy-librarian-esque glasses had been removed at some point, along with the rest of her clothes.

Later the cameraman tells her how great her expressions were, really enthralling and sexy, when in actual fact you know she was trying not to laugh her ass off (You may or may not have been pulling faces at her from behind the cameraman. But what that guy doesn’t know won’t hurt him).

You’re out in the parking lot, heading towards your train wreck of a car (A Volkswagen Beetle that you wouldn’t trade for all the Ferrari’s in Europe), when someone calls out to you;

“Hey freckles, mind if I catch a ride?” 

It briefly occurs to you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen Jane while she was dressed, which sounds pretty backwards honestly. She’s wearing a knee length skirt and a long sleeved t-shirt with a pair of Mary-Janes, her sexy-librarian glasses back in place. 

“I’ve got a name you know.”

“I know. So you gonna drive me home or not?”

Somehow along the way you agree to drive her to work the next morning even though she has to be there a lot earlier than you even wanted to be awake, much less at work. Even further along the line you learned that she can’t drive a car and is now relying on you for rides to work every morning.

You’d say fuck your life, but c’mon man, that’s a bit too lame even for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my moirail Sapphire found a post on tumblr, and she wanted this AU. I am powerless against her request. And so we have Freckles and Mittens (Originally titled Freckles The Carpooling Porn Star). Enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name is Dirk Strider and you really have no fucking idea why you’re awake at six AM.

Your name is Dirk Strider and you really have no fucking idea why you’re awake at six AM.

Oh right. Because for some unknown reason, you agreed to drive an obscenely short girl to work early this morning so she can get tied up and suspended from the ceiling. You wish you could say this is a surprise, but you were in the same position about a fortnight ago, so you don’t really judge. Whatever makes money, because Jane really needs to get a damn car. And learn to drive. And get a licence. But perhaps not in that order.

For the second time in two days, you fall out of a bed. The first time was significantly more enjoyable (Because at the time you were laughing your ass off at nothing in particular and there was an adorable equally as giggly girl on top of you).

You hit the floorboards of your bedroom with a loud thump and don’t move for the next ten minutes. 

At which point you decide that the floor is fucking uncomfortable and cold, and if you’re gonna be uncomfortable and cold you might as well get shit done at the same time.

You’re so tired, you fall over three times while trying to wiggle into your jeans. You’re incredibly glad that you don’t live with your brother anymore, he’d never let you live this down. And somehow you get the feeling that wherever he is (You really have no idea where your brother lives anymore), he knows exactly what just happened and is laughing his ass off about it. You really wouldn’t be surprised if he was.

It’s almost seven by the time you manage to win the near hopeless war with your jeans, eat some left over pizza and get into your car. It takes you a further fifteen minutes to navigate your way to Jane’s shitty little apartment, despite the fact that it’s about two blocks away. You have a terrible sense of direction.

It’s another fifteen before Jane manages to get downstairs. She looks every bit as tired as you feel, and for some reason is wearing fucking mittens.

Jesus Christ, people this adorable shouldn’t be in this industry, you simply cannot fathom how you have a porn star whom you are driving off to get tied up, suspended from the ceiling and fucked, is wearing mittens with goddamn bunnies on them.

This girl will be the death of you.

She chatters away for most of the drive, the highlight of which is when she proclaims you “Freckles the Car Pooling Porn Star”, which is more or less accurate. You swerve and almost crash the car after she makes up what sounds like a children’s song about your new name. You’re about a block away from the studio when she falls silent for a few seconds, then very quietly asks you to stop the car. You do so without question, pulling over to the side of the road and turning off the engine before you turn your head to look at her.

She looks weary and her eyes are staring at her mitten-clad hands like somehow they’d solve all the wrongs in the world, but at the same time, she looked quite lost. Little girl in the supermarket who’d let go of her mother’s hand type lost.

“Jane?”

“It’s silly. I just need a minute.”

It was at least five before she spoke again; “I think I’m scared. I’ve never done this sort of thing before and...well...”

“Jane...” You have an incredible lack of ideas about what to say to her. “I’ll stay with you when it gets done, make sure it’s done right. They aren’t going to hurt you, and if they do, they’ll pay, alright?” You reach out a hand, resting it atop hers and man is she tiny compared to you. Like a goddamn china doll. Jesus, what if someone really does break her?

She nods her head, her glasses slipping down her nose a tad, wrapping her hand around your own as best she can, just for a moment, before she pulls back with a sigh. “Okay, let’s go. Wouldn’t want to be late! And I’m holding you to your word, Freckles!”

That’s what you like to hear.

Within about five minutes you’re both strolling in through the doors of the studio, the receptionist giving you an odd look. Alright, so you weren’t the type to be anywhere any earlier than when you needed to be. But alas, you are now responsible for getting a spunky china doll in mittens to work every day. Plus she needs someone who actually knows what’s going on (you suspect she’s agreeing to a lot of things she really doesn’t understand and it kills you, because you’ve done the same thing and it fucking sucked). 

You stay close by as she strips and folds her clothes carefully, mittens and shoes atop the neat little pile next to her bag. She gives you one of those bright beaming smiles as she steps into the room to meet the kinbaku expert, who you’re a lot friendlier with than you probably should be.

“Hey Damara.” You give her a small wave as she starts pulling a very carefully knotted piece of rope out of a duffle bag. If you didn’t know how much wearing one of those could hurt, you might be a little impressed at how much work she put into these things. 

Damara smiles that almost terrifying grin at you, nods her head and then turns to Jane. “Don’t worry, I am very good at what I do.” Jane looks at you in turn and you nod. You just pray she doesn’t get jerked around as badly as you did, and end up with rope burns in places you really should not have rope burns in.

The whole process should have taken an hour at most. But Jane kept getting scared whenever Damara tried to tie any rope that she found was particularly intrusive and would attempt to run away. She got more cunning with each attempt, and you spent a good fifteen minutes trying to find a naked girl half tied up in kinbaku. Because naturally that is how every normal person starts their morning. When the director for whatever the hell it is they have you doing today, you tell him you aren’t working until lunch at the earliest, due to another commitment. You stay in the studio with Jane, parked next to Damara throughout the entire thing (You don’t make as many stupid faces at her during this session). But she makes you stay with her while Damara unties her, then you go around to Starbucks down the road and buy her a hot chocolate. 

She whines at you for making a stupid face at her when she was meant to be acting all seductively. So about three hours later when you find yourself being spanked, she’s standing beside the cameraman, pulling some of the most ridiculous faces you’ve ever seen.

Thank god you didn’t fall off the guys lap laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have chapter two. I have no idea where I'm going with this thing, but I think it's gonna be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name is Dirk Strider and you should really stop making faces at Jane during takes.

Your name is Dirk Strider and you should really stop making faces at Jane during takes.

However, you will be cold and dead before you stop being a jackass and making her laugh her rather nice ass off when she should be acting sexy and sultry. It’s not like she doesn’t do the same sort of thing to you. And somehow you always end up laughing a hell of a lot more than she does. Why this is remains a mystery to you, but you aren’t going to complain.

You’ve come to the conclusion that Jane is rapidly becoming one of your best friends. 

You’ve decided you have absolutely no problems with this. It isn’t as though you have a lot of friends to begin with. Everyone wants to befriend a porn star in theory, in practice it sort of weirds people out. (Your nearest, dearest and oldest friend is a well-regarded astronomer you went to high school with, and, god bless her soul, she has never once judged you for your choices or your job. You really should call her more often. You’ll do that later, you swear.) Jane doesn’t seem to have any problems with this arrangement either, because from what you can tell, save the few people at work she’s on a first name basis with, she doesn’t have many friends either. You feel kind of bad for her, she’s the sort of girl who deserves as many friends as she can handle, the sweetie.

You have started to notice the fact that Jane is incredibly skilled at ducking any subject she decides she doesn’t want to talk about, which is surprisingly quite a lot of subjects. Apparently your sweetheart in mittens is hiding more than a few secrets.

She thinks you don’t know.

But really you just don’t want to ruin a good thing. It’s been such a long time since a good thing has come along for you. And right now, you don’t have a care in the world. It’s times like these in which you wonder how you could have ever doubted yourself or your lifestyle.

“Is it ever weird for you, walking down the street and thinking ‘wow these people might have seen me naked’?” Jane asks you one afternoon when the two of you walk down to the Starbucks down the road. You’d both had a really long morning, and really needed the caffeine boost.

“At first it was kinda. Now it’s sorta like...well, if they have, then they probably helped pay for my new iPod or the flatscreen in my apartment so...” You tell her. That’s pretty true. If people are watching your work, then they’re probably paying for your pizza and your new jeans and the new X-Box game you bought the other day. So it’s all good. You’ve gotta pay the bills (And your ridiculous obsession with buying new pairs of skinny jeans) somehow.

“...I never thought of it like that. But...don’t you ever get embarrassed thinking that someone you know might see something?” Jane is doing an incredibly poor job of trying to hold her cup of hot chocolate while wearing those ridiculous mittens of hers. You sort of wish you had a camera so you could film it.

“Everyone who’s opinion matters to me already knows what I do, and they’re all pretty chill about it. If I was trying to keep it a secret then...maybe. Yeah, I might be pretty embarrassed if someone found something but honestly? I don’t really care what people think of me. You shouldn’t either. This is your choice, this is your life. And it’s no one’s business but your own.” Aaaaand she proceeds to give you one of those warm smiles that just about melts your insides into a big pile of goop. Damn her to hell.

“Thanks, Freckles. And for the rides lately and stuff.” She still hasn’t taken your advice and learned to drive. But you’re working on that. You swear to god she is going to learn to drive even if you have to teach her yourself. That being said, you’re a bloody awful driver and teaching her is at least in the top ten worst ideas Dirk Strider has ever had. And let it be said now that you have had some goddamn awful ideas over the course of your twenty four years of life.

But if it’d help Jane out, you’d probably learn to be a better teacher.

It’s moments like this that you consider the idea that you may or may not have become a total sap. God help you because your brother would serve your ass on a platter if he even suspected as such. (You should probably try and call him sometime, figure out what country he’s in and if his ridiculously stupid and offensive films have gotten him attacked yet. You say ‘attacked’ pretty loosely, because honestly, you still hold onto the child-like belief that your brother is invincible. He might not quite be indestructible, but he’s more than capable of handling himself.)

“It’s all good. You’ve gotta get around somehow, and I’ve got the time.”

The next morning you wake up to find Jane in your kitchen, baking a shittonne of cupcakes.  
You decide, (a) that you have never seen that many fucking cupcakes in your entire life and HOLY SHIT CUPCAKES, and (b) that you should probably start remembering to lock your damn door when you go to sleep. Shit’s fucking creepy.

As it turns out, Jane is pretty amazing at making cupcakes. And now you have a seemingly neverending supply of them (So naturally, you plan on eating all of them before the day’s over). She mentions casually that your place is actually pretty nice--which it is--, much better than hers at any rate.

Before you know what you’ve done, you’ve invited her to move into the guest room that you generally use for storage and housing your brother when he happens to be in town. She’s hesitant, but accepts on the grounds that her apartment has a roach infestation and that she really hates bugs.

Your name is Dirk Strider and you are slowly realising that your life may or may not be currently revolving around a girl named Jane, who wears mittens completely unironically.

Goddamn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have another chapter of this ridiculousness. Blame Sapphire, I am so sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name is Dirk Strider and someone has just sat on you, godfuckingdamn it, it's too early for this shit.

Your name is Dirk Strider and someone has just sat on you, godfuckingdamn it, it’s too early for this shit.

Jane is sitting on your stomach and informing you that she’s making pancakes so you should get up because pancakes. Normally this would be an awesome way to spend a Saturday morning, but you’re pretty sure it isn’t even seven AM yet and you simply cannot fathom how someone can be so awake so early on a Saturday.

Neither of you are working this weekend, which is pretty sweet because you deserve some time to yourself. Unfortunately, all of your free time now belongs to your new roommate. But you can live with that if she keeps feeding you baked goods at all hours of the day and night.

“I’ll be up in a minute.” You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Just five more minutes.”

“You can have two more minutes before I get a bucket of cold water and tip it on your head.” She leaves the room as quickly as she darted in and sat on you. Good riddance. But now you’ve got a deadline you don’t know you can live with.

Exactly two minutes and forty five seconds later, you are sprawled on the floor like a starfish after a failed attempt at getting up. You briefly consider rolling under the bed and hiding before Jane comes to see what all the noise is about. But instead you groan unhappily and pull the blankets off the bed and on top of you. Yes, this is fine. You can spend all of Saturday lying on the floor with a pile of blankets on top of you while Jane brings you cupcakes for lunch. Perfect Saturday in your opinion.

But of course nothing ever works out the way you want it too and in exactly three seconds everything that could have happened did happen.

It started with the front door of your apartment slamming open and Jane squeaking in surprise. You think she dropped a muffin tray or something (Since when do you have muffin trays?). In a panic, you dash out of your room, still half wrapped up in a pile of blankets to find your older brother sprawled on your couch in a suit that’s probably worth more than your car. Of fucking course he had to show up _now_ of all the times. You’re about to demand an explanation, because normally he gives you some warning (Or the press announces that the famous Dave Strider has returned to his home town on the front cover of some trashy magazine), when the door opens once again and a very cheerful voice chirps out your name. Jane drops the muffin tray again (Where the fuck did that tray come from?).

Roxy Lalonde looks at you for exactly three seconds, laughs her petite little ass off then flops down on the couch next to your brother and asks him how he’s been. Jane looks terrified and you wish Roxy had remembered to close the door but she never does. You love her but goddamn, the girl needs some damn manners. You feel like now is the time for awkward family introductions, because Roxy and Jane now count just as much as Dave does.

But instead you turn around, go back to your room and attempt to find some pants. No luck, so you settled for boxers and a shirt then stumble back into the kitchen. Dave’s watching TV very loudly in the lounge and Roxy is very animatedly chatting to Jane, who’s making extra pancakes. “Di-Stri! What took ya so long? And why didn’t you tell me you’re living with someone?” Roxy chirps, sipping what you hope is coffee out of a thermos.

“Because you will make a thing where no thing needs to be made. Bro! Get in here, we’re having pancakes.” You sit down at the counter and shoot Jane an apologetic look. “Jane, this is Roxy, my best friend, Roxy, this is Jane, we work together. The guy in the suit is my brother. They have no manners obviously, sorry about the extra cooking.”

But naturally Jane just beams at Roxy and Dave, who’s stumbling into the kitchen now, and says it’s no problem, piling plates of pancakes pretty damn high then handing one to each of you. God bless her and her ridiculous obsession with cooking, but you can only eat McDonalds breakfast so many mornings without beginning to hate yourself. And you hit that point a long damn time ago.

“Not meaning to offend or anything, but why the fuck are you two in my house at seven in the morning?”

“Hungover, needed somewhere to sleep, lost my wallet.” Your Bro mumbles through a mouthful of pancakes. You just sigh and continue eating your pancakes.

“I just got bored and decided to come bug you for a few days.” 

All you wanted was a nice quiet weekend in which you lay on the floor in a cocoon of blankets and ate cupcakes made by your enthusiastic roommate, was that really too much to ask?

Apparently so because within five minutes, both your Bro and Roxy have informed you they won’t be leaving until Monday at the absolute earliest and goddamn it your apartment was not built to house this many people, let alone this many _insane_ people. Alas, Roxy seems to be very intent on befriending Jane and Dave’s won her favour by informing her how rad her pancakes are, so it looks like you aren’t receiving any back up from her.

You just want to sleep. So you steal a couple of cupcakes and stumble back to bed, burying yourself under the pile of blankets while you scoff a cupcake, and regret not asking for more pancakes while you were in the kitchen.

Needless to say, about ten seconds later, Jane _and_ Roxy have bounded into the room, sat on you and informed you that you need to drive them to the store so Jane can get ingredients for some kind of pudding, because Dave and Roxy are both not sober, and Jane still does not know how to drive.

You tell them to get the hell off you and that they don’t need to make pudding.

About five minutes later, you realise your mistake and end up driving to the store with them because _pudding_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name is Dirk Strider and you wish your apartment wasn't filled with crazy people.

Your name is Dirk Strider and you wish your apartment wasn’t filled with crazy people.

But it is and there is exactly jack shit all you can do about it because unfortunately, aforementioned crazy people are your family. Both biologically and otherwise. So you put up with them and make Jane cups of tea when she decides she’s made enough cupcakes and various other baked goods for one afternoon. And you ruffle Roxy’s hair whenever you go past her (She’s _almost_ as short as Jane, almost) and have shitty dramatic sword fights with your brother on the roof of your building.

By Monday morning, when Jane has to go back to work and both Roxy and your brother have to go back to whatever it is they do when they aren’t playing video games half naked on your couch, you’re actually pretty sad to see them go. But they both promise to turn up again for Christmas or your birthday or something else cheesy like that, and you’re pretty alright with that.

You hug Roxy, give your Bro a high-five and then collapse on the couch in exhaustion the second they’re out the door. Jane promptly sits on you. You curse about how you need a new roommate, one that doesn’t think sitting on people is the best way to get their attention, regardless of whether or not she may be right. It _does_ get your attention. But you still wish she wouldn’t do it because goddamn it you want to sleep.

But she’s right, you do have to get up and drive her to work. (You’re free for the day, your plans involve sleeping the second you drop Jane off at work).

“Okay, so here’s the shopping list, you should probably get all this stuff before I get home because some of it…” Her voice completely fades out because she expects you to go _shopping_. God help you. Your roommate is actually expecting you to go _grocery shopping_ while she’s at work.

She’s out of her fucking mind.

And yet exactly a half hour later, you find yourself pulling into the Walmart parking lot and wondering why anyone could possibly need that many bags of flour. You get a double take in the frosting aisle—that isn't actually all that uncommon now. But you do the polite thing and don't make anyone feel awkward for recognising you from your...work.

Which is actually pretty goddamn nice of you because usually you think it's sorta funny when people get awkward around you. What the hell do they expect you to do? Start screwing someone in aisle two? You just want to get the damn flour and go home so you can sleep.

Unfortunately, Jane's shopping list is three pages long and she wants large quantities of _everything_ , so you end up staying there for a long goddman time. By the time you've gotten everything put away (And by that you mean tossed onto the kitchen table), you have to go get Jane. You're quickly deciding that you aren't cut out for this domestic thing.

As you wait for Jane in the car, thrumming your fingers on the steering wheel, you ponder how everything got this weird and why there's a packet of frosting on your dashboard. But come to the conclusion that it's better to not ask questions. Especially when Jane gets in the car with a sad look on her face, shakes her head and looks down at her lap.

Out of keeping the peace, you say nothing until you're halfway home. And even then you only comment on the ridiculous quantities of flour she asked you to get. She laughs and tells you she's trying to make some kind of French desert that has a name no human being should be able to pronounce.

You decide you'll ask her tomorrow, after you've dealt with the groceries (She yells for no less than twenty minutes about the fact that you didn't put them away, then does that stupid disappointed head shake for another ten).

You end up getting pizza because not even Jane Crocker herself can be bothered with cooking tonight. And everything's pretty swell. Until Jane's phone starts ringing in the middle of some stupid sit-com you two were watching. She's still all smiles until she pulls her phone out, frowns and leaves the room.

You don't know who it is, or what gets said, but what you can hear of Jane's voice is low and angry. When she comes back into the lounge room, she looks at you for a moment, shakes her head then walks to her bedroom.

Yeah, tomorrow. You'll handle it tomorrow.

(You won't, but it's nice to think you might)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name is Dirk Strider and tomorrow came far too quickly.

Your name is Dirk Strider and tomorrow came far too quickly, because you still have no idea how to handle an upset Jane, for the simple reason that she’s never been upset in your presence before.

Well not counting the time she got freaked out by some of Damara’s more extreme rope techniques, because that wasn’t a sad kind of upset, it was a funny kind of freaked out, and you’d all laughed about it afterwards (Well, Damara had smirked oddly and you think that might be close to the same thing).

So after a full fifteen minutes of standing outside her door like a creep, you walk in and find her curled up in a ball on the bed, as though her goal was to make herself as tiny as humanly possible. She did a good job, but not quite good enough. She raises her head a tad when you enter, then just drops it back onto the pillow.

With a sigh, you ponder how the hell you think you’re going to help with a problem you literally know nothing about. 

Well, not nothing. You know that it concerns Jane, and by extension, concerns you. Maybe you should call Roxy, she generally knows what to do. Sometimes. But you’re pretty sure she’d just tell you it was none of your business/to call her back when you actually had a decent idea of what was going on.

So you decide not to call Roxy and instead settle for asking Jane to shove over and curling up with her. She’s smaller than you, way smaller, and she’s putting a lot of effort into making herself as small as possible, so curling yourself around her, resting your chin atop your head, doesn’t actually take that much effort or maneuvering. 

“I think he’s ashamed of me.” She says after a good half hour of you two lying like that, with you combing your fingers through her very short hair. “He thinks I’m wasting my life.”

You have no fucking idea who he is, but you’re pretty sure you don’t like the guy (Maybe this isn’t the career a lot of people would have picked, and maybe a lot never picked it in the first place and still ended up in it, but there’s no damn reason to be ashamed of someone as kind as Jane, even if he work is considered questionable). “Are you happy?”

“I thought I was.”

You don’t like this. You really don’t like this because this is Jane and Jane doesn’t do this moping sad thing, she is made of everything that is bright and sweet (Literally, those damn cakes). “What did you want to do with your life?”

“Bake. I wanted to own a little cake shop.” She replies, her response sort of muffled by the fact that she seems to be trying to smother herself in your shirt.

“Don’t say it like your life is over just yet. You aren’t even twenty five yet, you’ve got loads of time for a cake shop, and a bunch of other stuff.” You sigh softly to yourself, and come to the conclusion you probably aren’t going to get to work today. You’ll call in sick, and call in for Janey too. She’s not really in any condition to be going to work. 

There are a lot of things more important at the moment.

“How about we get up, and we’ll go to that café with the designer cakes, the one you keep drooling over whenever we drive past?”

That brightens her right up and thank god it does because if it didn’t you really had no damn idea what you were gonna do for a back up plan. Call Dave and ask for a plane ticket to France or something? You don’t know, you don’t really want to think about it. Borrowing money off your Hollywood brother has never sat well with you.

“Sounds good…but later. ‘m not ready to get up just yet.”

You calmly resign yourself to another two hours of being cuddled, then a good half hour of the both of you stumbling around trying to remember how proper clothes and shoes work (You tie Jane’s shoelaces and she makes sure your buttons are done up right). It’s almost three hours later by the time you end up in a cake shop, which is pretty (But so very pastel pink) but you get the feeling that some of the cakes in there might just cost more than your car.

Goddamn it, the things you do for this girl.

It takes exactly three seconds before you’ve been hauled to one of the glass case things and had explained to you why the cake you are looking at is ten times more impressive than the cake to the left of it, which looks exactly the same to you.

After rattling your brain, you decide you have no idea how you ended up sitting in a cake shop having bits of cake held out to you to try. But Jane seems to be enjoying herself, perhaps a lot more than she should be, but it’s better than her moping.

You begin to regret every choice you’ve ever made up until this point when she rubs red velvet cupcakes in your hair.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name is Dirk Strider and for the first time in a long time, you're questioning what you do for a living.

Your name is Dirk Strider and for the first time in a long time, you're questioning what you do for a living.

You'll be the first to admit that the reason you ended up doing what you do for a living was pretty petty--you're starting to think that this is the kind of thing in which about one percent of all people doing it actually chose to do it because they wanted to, and everyone else fell into it with varying levels of severity.

And you? Well, you could have done almost anything. Gone to college and gotten a degree in whatever the fuck you wanted, but in order to do so you would have needed a miracle or to ask your brother for money. And he  _definitely_ would have given it to you. He's not one for many words but you know he loves you pretty fucking dearly, and the feeling is definitely mutual. But you were right in the middle of your teenage rebellion when you got back your college acceptance letters and were faced with the reality of adulthood all at once. In theory, it was a piece of cake, in practice, you kind of felt like you were standing on a cliff.

Plus, at the time you really wanted to piss off your brother, so you found a job that didn't require a degree in anything that was most likely to piss off your older brother pretty damn effectively.

You miscalculated majorly on that count. Dave wasn't angry, or disappointed in you. In fact, he seemed indifferent to your occupation of choice, so long as you maintained an outwardly decent demeanor--gave some occasional indication that you weren't dying on the inside, and he gave so few fucks about it you couldn't even fathom the situation.

At the point in which you realised your genius plan wasn't working out the way you planned, you were pretty deep in and not making the best decisions--in theory, you didn't really mind the work. In fact, if it wasn't for a few aspects of it, you might have even enjoyed it. By some miracle, you ended up at a studio setting; which you knew was pretty rare for the industry, safer than a lot of your colleagues would ever have had, and you weren't  _happy_ with it, but you were definitely content. 

Four years later, and you're still fairly content.

But not everyone is like you, and you know it. Even some of the people at the studio you work for--admittedly, probably one of the best places you could be while working in the pornography industry because at least it gave the assurance of safety--have outwardly expressed their unhappiness about the whole thing.

Jane doesn't really do outward expressiveness of negative stuff, but you like to think you've gotten good enough at reading her that by now, you just  _know._ And you're starting to think that maybe it isn't a case of her becoming unhappy, but more a case of you becoming aware enough to know that she's unhappy. Which is pretty fucked up.

What's even more fucked up is that you're thinking about this very intensely while sitting in a fancy cake store sipping some kind of weird coffee that doesn't quite taste like coffee anymore while Jane very intensely examines the frosting on the cupcake she ordered, trying to decipher the secrets of the universe or something.

"Jane, who called you the other day?" You hadn't meant to say that at all--much less so bluntly. But it's been a few days and she hasn't fessed up on her own, so you guess you have to ask. Although you have been convincing producer's, directors and other talent at the studio to lessen Jane's work, and in turn have more work yourself to make up the cash she isn't earning. She doesn't seem to have noticed, or if she has, she hasn't said anything.

"What are you--Oh, _that._ " And suddenly her cupcake didn't seem so interesting, for she seemed to be intensely staring at her lap. "My dad."

_Ah._

Yeah, that made sense. Parents never seemed to take well to the idea that their sweet baby was being bent over a table on camera for a living, you didn't have any as far as you knew so you never really had that problem--only Bro being completely annoyingly supportive rather than pissed off at you for 'wasting your potential' or whatever the hell else parents were meant to say. "Everything okay on that front?"

"I'm a disappointment apparently." She says, but at least her voice isn't quite so heavy or worn down as it was last time they talked about this. "He says it's undignified for a lady of my station and upbringing to be doing such disgusting work. That my grandmother is turning in her grave or something ridiculous like that."

"Don't see how anyone so nice could be a  _disappointment._ " She really is way too nice, and you kind of sort of love her for it. "What do you think about it?"

"I think...for now, this is okay. But not always, you know?" You can understand that. You don't expect to still be doing this when you're old and wrinkly and fat--provided you live long enough to get old and wrinkly and fat. This is just...for now. Maybe one day you might actually go to college and Jane might actually open her cake shop and you can make dumb jokes about way back when working as porn stars and how you met each other by having to fuck in front of a room full of people for cash.

Or not, considering you both already make dumb jokes about it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that I disappeared for many months but I'm back and trying to update as quickly as I can so yeah. Forgive me?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name is Dirk Strider, and today's the last day you can be accurately called "Freckles The Carpooling Porn Star".

Your name is Dirk Strider, and today's the last day you can be accurately called "Freckles The Carpooling Porn Star".

Thank fuck for that.

You say that because you just quit your job, you figured at the ripe old age of twenty three, it's time to get over your stubborn teenage rebellion and just admit that you actually kind of do want to go to college, and yeah, it'd be pretty sweet if your brother could help you out with tuition. But maybe that's getting a little ahead of yourself. Because as with a lot of things in the past year, this whole thing started with a girl named Jane Crocker.

You'd known Jane for a solid few months before she came out with the truth--that she really didn't want to keep doing what she was doing. Fair enough, the porn industry was hardly the best or safest place to work. It wasn't even the best paying, if you're being honest with yourself ( But you had a pretty decent following that ensured you could pay rent, buy new jeans whenever you felt like it and continue to eat on a daily basis, so you were pretty lucky ). There was a solid few months after that in which the two of you spent as much time as possible dancing around the ever present issue of what the hell she was going to do now that her dad ( who you still haven't met and don't really want to ) was on her back about her life choices. It was about then that you realised you had never been more grateful for your brother's attitude towards your work--as long as you aren't dying, physically or emotionally, he's pretty chill about your life choices.

And once again, you feel like you should probably call, and at least be aware of what country he is presently in.

"I'm thinking of quitting the studio." Jane says to you one evening over a triple tier chocolate cake she spent the late afternoon baking while you were being filmed doing some less than appropriate things.

You don't say anything, you just raise an eyebrow and stuff more cake in your mouth. You feel like maybe you should be more encouraging about the matter, but you're rather concerned. Granted, as far as most are concerned, there aren't many worse places you could end up than working in porn, but working in porn somewhere safe like the studio is still better than a lot of respectable jobs might be--you're not sure you trust the world to handle Jane Crocker with the care she deserves.

"I've been in contact with my dad, and...he says that if I quit, I'll be allowed access back into my trust fund." Ah yes, that glorious moment a few weeks ago in which you had learned that Jane was one of  _those_ Crocker's, the one's that owned an entire baking empire, and that she was in fact incredibly fucking rich. Like more rich than your Hollywood asshat of a brother was. 

"Are you sure you wanna be gettin' involved with him again?"

"Not really, but if I do, then I can get the money to start my cake shop." And then she's got this wistful look in her eyes and you immediately know there is absolutely no way in hell you could possibly not support her in this. Even if it does go as badly as you fear it might.

As it turns out, you are entirely _wrong_ about how wrong it might go. It doesn't go wrong at all. In fact, it all goes off without so much as a hitch and you weren't entirely sure you believed anything could happen so smoothly but it does. Your brother and Roxy both crash the grand opening of  _Jane's Bakehouse_ and it gets so much publicity that you two are basically set for rent for the next six months, and would be even if Jane didn't suddenly have access to more money than you ever dreamed of having ( mostly because you're not all that fucked about money, as long as you've got enough to live, you're good ).

So of course, the four of you end up smooshing cupcakes all over each other and the press that seem to endlessly follow your brother capture every moment on camera. Good. You sort of like the idea of a moment like this being captured forever. Not that you have any doubts in your mind that Jane will smoosh many, _many_ more cupcakes into your hair after this--it's becoming something of a hobby of hers.

Work doesn't seem the same without Janey telling bad knock knock jokes when she's stark naked, sipping on a hot chocolate. But sometimes she comes in to deliver coffee and a tea cake for you, and not for the first time, you think she looks entirely out of place in the studio. Though that might have something to do with the frilly pink apron she's wearing more than _her._

It's one night when you can't actually sit up and end up lying sprawled on your stomach on the couch with a heat pack on your ass that you think maybe this wasn't the wisest decision you ever made. So you call Roxy and ask her for advice on college and she seems giddy. And then of course;

"Y'know you can't sleep with  _all_  your teachers to pass class, right?" 

Roxy, of course, breaks off into a round of hysterical giggles, right up until there's a squeal and a thump and you know she just fell off her desk chair. That earns a snicker from you.

You try to keep it quiet and make Roxy promise not to repeat any of what you say to Jane  _or_ Dave, and send off a bunch of applications, because whether your clusterfuck freak show of a life shows it or not, you're actually pretty goddamn smart. While you wait for responses from colleges, you try to take on as many shoots as possible in a vain attempt to have enough cash to pay for  _some_ of your tuition ( provided, of course, anywhere lets you in ). This doesn't go well, you've said it before and you'll say it again; there are some places rope just  _should not_ go.

And so, it is on one particularly hot afternoon in which you have rope burn on your ass, that you open a college acceptance letter, one citing how 'insightful and _mature_ ' your essay was. 

You're pretty fucking sure there's not anything particularly mature about having rope burns on your ass, but hey, you'll take what you can get.

Everything after that happens pretty goddamn fast.

Neither you nor Jane move out of your admittedly pretty shitty apartment. Despite the fact that you are now a college student and there are a million and one equally shitty small apartments that are closer to campus, and despite the fact that Jane is actually pretty goddamn well off these days, even without the trust fund. You're sort of glad actually, you've grown accustom to being fed all manner of delicious baked goods at all hours of the day and night and you really don't think you can go back to the days of McDonalds for breakfast, lunch and dinner. There's only so much take out and fast food you can eat before you hate yourself, and you're pretty sure you hit that a few years ago when you were still figuring out how to not burn noodles.

And that's how you got to where you are now--forty five minutes away from actually making a "respectable" man out of yourself. Of course, that being said, there's a dick up the ass and a lot of fake moaning between you and your supposed respectability. But somehow you're okay with that.

Your name is Dirk Strider, and your life was changed for the better by a girl who wore mittens completely unironically.

Story of your fucking life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are folks, because I felt like this needed to be finished. And so Dirk went to college and became a somewhat respectable thing who no longer feels bad about making other people feel awkward when they recognise him from porn and Jane opens a bakehouse and basically force feeds Dirk cupcakes until they grow old together. The end.


End file.
